


(it all started with an) "if you wish"

by owlsshadows



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Accidental Proposal, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mangaka Tendou, Marriage Proposal, Post-Canon, Pro Volleyball Player Ushijima Wakatoshi, Short One Shot, Tendou Satori Week, but also pre-canon if you look at it from post-timeskip, they are 21-22
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:28:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24292867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlsshadows/pseuds/owlsshadows
Summary: “I told you, you don’t have to do anything,” he starts.Then he notices Wakatoshi wearing the terrible, horrible, ugly, disgusting apron Satori got for his birthday last year from Semi over his perfectly ironed shirt, and his breath is stolen from him.“You know what, scrap that, you look great doing the dishes,” he says. “I could watch this all day, please continue.”Satori blurts out a proposal. Wakatoshi does not find it totally illogical for them to marry.
Relationships: Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 23
Kudos: 310
Collections: TendouWeek2020





	(it all started with an) "if you wish"

**Author's Note:**

> this might be all over the place but enjoy! 
> 
> written for Tendou's bday and Tendou Week 2020 Day 3: Future (I realized they are actually pre-timeskip, but I guess it still counts?)

The sound of running water fills the tiny apartment, followed by the clinking of dishes in the sink. Satori blinks his eyes open, peels his face off his hand, sits up from where he had fallen asleep over his desk.

He takes a quick glance at his manuscript, looking for crumples or spots of drool out of habit, rubbing his eyes as he pushes his chair back, standing up.

Darkness fell over the apartment sometime between his snoozing off and now. The street lights paint slivers of brightness on the wall, sneaking in between the gaps of the curtains – something which admittedly bothers Satori, as no matter how he pulls the curtains, they are always a few centimeters short – but apart from that, the room is dim. The only source of light is the soft glow filtering in through the barely open door.

The light does not feel inviting, Satori’s tired eyes try to convince him, but the sounds of someone washing the dishes do.

It reminds him that he is not alone.

Momentarily he wonders how exhausted he had to be to fall asleep while he had Wakatoshi over. He has a deadline coming up, sure, and he has been procrastinating a little too much over the last chapter, no doubt.

He always did. The only place where he knew no hesitation was the volleyball court, and he left it behind years ago.

He walks out to the small living room dragging his feet and slumps down into one of the dining chairs by the kitchen table.

“I told you, you don’t have to do anything,” he starts.

Then he notices Wakatoshi wearing the terrible, horrible, ugly, disgusting apron Satori got for his birthday last year from Semi over his perfectly ironed shirt, and his breath is stolen from him.

“You know what, scrap that, you look great doing the dishes,” he says. “I could watch this all day, please continue.”

Wakatoshi sends him a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow. Satori could swear there is a smile in the corner of his lips. Satori could also swear that he had never seen Wakatoshi so beautiful in the seven years he knew him.

“Marry me,” he blurts out in his temporarily weakened state.

“If you want to,” Wakatoshi replies, not missing a beat.

“What do you mean, if you want to? What kind of reply is that?” Satori asks with a chuckle. “Either way, Wakatoshi, don’t feel obliged to humor me, I’m just blabbering nonsense because I’m tired and you look… fine.”

“It is not nonsense,” Wakatoshi insists. He places what seems to be the last plate onto the dish rack and dries his hand off on the kitchen towel before he turns to Satori with his whole body. “I will marry you. If you really want to marry, that is. We are a little young, I think. I have just switched teams, too, and your income… well. But we could manage.”

“I– “

Suddenly, Satori feels the urge to stand up and push Wakatoshi down a chair or onto the counter, because the way he stands straight in the middle of Satori’s undersized kitchen, he looks equal times uncomfortable and serious.

And Satori can get a little afraid of the latter.

During his childhood and up until high school, no one his age bothered to be straightforward with Satori. They whispered behind his back, insulted him to his face. He was disliked… feared even.

For the most part, he could not care less.

At the beginning of high school, though, things changed. Coach Washijo let him play the way he wanted, moreover, praised him for it. The people who called him ‘monster’ changed, from little gremlin bullies to big-muscled teens with awe in their eyes.

In the patchwork of Shiratorizawa, he was a perfect fit.

The one who seemingly did not belong, was this big dum-dum, standing in the middle of his kitchen now, ready to present an array of reasons why his proposal, uttered in a moment of weakness, is actually a sound plan.

Wakatoshi always sat alone. Ate alone. Studied alone. During practice, he arrived before everyone and left the last. If and when he spoke, he did it to the bare minimum. In Satori’s eyes, he was a piece of fine machinery.

And nothing Satori liked more, than tinkering. Pushing people’s buttons, riling them up with sharp remarks and perfectly timed blocks to see what brings them to the breaking point.

In retrospect, probing Wakatoshi’s defenses was a dumb idea.

He seemed detached, guarded with walls high around his self, but truly, Wakatoshi was defenseless. He had nothing to hide. He did not speak much, because he felt that he had nothing to add to the conversation. He arrived first and left practice last because he loved volleyball more than anything. He ate and studied alone because he had no friends and he did not particularly mind it. He sat alone not because he preferred it that way, but simply because people were afraid of him. 

He turned out to be way more interesting than Satori could have ever imagined. Instead of a boy with a superiority complex, Satori found a blunt, straightforward idiot, and he felt attracted to him like a moth to the light.

Satori has exceptional memory.

The serious face Wakatoshi makes reminds him of good memories; plenty of his most nerve-wracking ones, too.

That first time he approached Wakatoshi’s table with his tray at the cafeteria, and – in true Satori-fashion – asked if all the seats were reserved for the future ace, Wakatoshi glared at him. ‘ _No ace deserves an entire table for themselves. Take a seat, if you wish,_ ’ he said. He was not offended, but he did not understand Satori’s teasing either. He listened as Satori chatted away, and gave Satori his pudding.

When Satori watched a horror movie and found himself unable to sleep, Wakatoshi pulled an all-nighter with him in one of the study rooms. ‘ _You are afraid, aren’t you? Then I will stay. If you want me to_.’

When Satori reached rock bottom, lying in the grass in the rain and wishing he could melt away with the leftover snow, Wakatoshi found him, pulled him up, and hugged him with a serious face. ‘ _We can repeat that kiss if you want. It was too sudden for me to understand the mechanics of it anyway_.’

For Wakatoshi to stand in his tiny kitchen and dare say _‘I will marry you if you really want to_ ’ – Satori needs all the pride and self-esteem of a young and so-far unsuccessful mangaka to not cry.

“I understand,” he stands, plastering both his hands on Wakatoshi’s lips before he could speak any more. “I understand, and so I have a suggestion.”

Wakatoshi looks at him, with every ounce of his pure, innocent, patient and serious self, waiting for him to continue.

“I was hasty, asking for your hand in marriage when all I wanted to express was my appreciation of you in my apron,” Satori says, taking Wakatoshi’s hands and lifting them up to his lips. “I won’t ask such important things without consideration again. But I do want to propose to you,” he smirks, heart fluttering so wildly in his chest it threatens to break his ribcage. “Once I become a successful mangaka, will you allow me to ask for your hand again?”

Wakatoshi purses his lips in reply.

“What now, Wakatoshi-kun? Don’t you trust my abilities to make it big?”

“I do trust you, Satori,” he says, freeing his hands in order to cup Satori’s face, “but on the off chance that you give up and end up working at the convenience store again, would you give me permission to propose instead?”

Satori fights back a laugh. “You know what, Wakatoshi? This time I forgive you for doubting my genius. You can propose,” he says, then, winking, he adds, “if you want to.”


End file.
